Chapter 7: The Battered Sedan
In late spring, when the jacaranda trees across Oakland were blooming in vibrant violet, an unfamiliar car pulled up to the curb outside the design studio.
It was an old, silver sedan with a dented rear bumper.
Julian stepped out.
He wore no designer suit. He was dressed in a plain grey cotton shirt, faded jeans, and work shoes that were dusted with drywall powder. His posture was lean, his face tanned from working outdoors, his styled hair cut short and practical.
He stood near the open loading bay of the studio, watching Maya direct a forklift carrying structural timber trusses.
When the forklift moved away, Maya turned and saw him.
She did not flinch. She set her clipboard down on a wooden crate and walked slowly to the edge of the loading dock, wiping cedar sawdust from her hands.
""Julian,"" Maya said, her voice even and calm.
Julian stopped five paces away, removing his canvas cap. He looked up at her with eyes that held no defense, no pride, and no excuses.
""Hello, Maya,"" Julian said softly.
""What are you doing here?""
May you like
Julian looked down at his work shoes, taking a deep breath of the coastal air. ""I resigned from Vance Capital four months ago. I took a job as an assistant site estimator with Habitat for Humanity in the Central Valley. I've been helping build timber duplexes for farmworkers in Fresno.""
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